


It Takes a Strong Man

by tebtosca



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: First Time, Gym Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 17:19:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/pseuds/tebtosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen doesn't really <i>need</i> a personal trainer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Takes a Strong Man

It isn’t fair, really. 

Jensen wipes the sweat off his brow before it can fall into one contact-lensed-eye, and glares over at where his personal trainer, Jared, is flirting shamelessly with Sandy the juice bar girl. 

“Warm up!” Jared had said to him when he walked in at the ass crack of dawn (okay, 7am isn’t dawn, but close enough), winking like the smug muscled Adonis person that he is. Jensen had just tugged his baggy t-shirt down a little bit farther and sluggishly climbed up onto the treadmill.

Jensen’s a corporate accountant. He wears a suit and a tie every day and carries a briefcase and a Venti Americano. On weekends, he is usually in front of his laptop with his cat Vader curled up around his feet. He isn’t on any sports teams that aren’t fantasy-based and the last person who looked at his biceps was the personal shopper at Lord and Taylor.

In other words, Jensen has no real need for a personal trainer.

Jared bends over to pick up a fallen straw, basketball shorts pulling tight against the ridiculous globes of his ass.

Oh, yeah, well, there is _that_.

An hour and a half later, Jensen is trained and showered and heading out the front door of the gym. Jared calls out to him right before he hits the glass door, and Jensen’s a bit surprised because they don’t usually have much contact outside of their workout.

“Special session tomorrow morning? You seemed a bit stiff today,” Jared says, smile big and bright.

Jensen squints his eyes and looks at him strangely. The next day is New Year’s Day and, considering that they are in the Financial District and most of the people who work out here come because they are going to work, the gym is sure to be dead even if it’s open.

“You’re open New Year’s Day?” Jensen asks, just to make sure Jared remembers.

“For you? Sure we are,” Jared replies, and if dimples had voices, they would be singing “Nessun Dorma” to Jensen right about now.

Jensen swallows hard and just nods, hand on the door again.

“And don’t be too hungover. I need you nice and active,” Jared adds, and Jensen thanks God his first meeting is a conference call because his pants are suddenly way too tight.

==

The place is a ghost town the next morning. Jensen had suspected as much, but it’s still weird to be in the gym without the sound of feet stomping on the treadmill or the low hum of voices. At least the overhead music is playing—even if it is Katy Perry--because complete silence would be too weird.

“Happy New Year!” Jared says cheerfully, popping up from behind the front desk when Jensen comes in. Jensen startles a bit, but can’t help smiling back. Stupid infectious dimple face.

“Happy New Year,” Jensen replies, giving a tiny wave before he rushes back to the locker room to change.

The work-out itself is strangely routine, and Jensen tampers down the sense of _something_ he feels inside. The tiny part of his brain that is responsible for things like hope and his midnight cravings for Lucky Charms tells him that it’s probably disappointment.

But that’s ridiculous, right? Because what in the world is there to be disappointed about? It’s not like Jared lured him to an empty gym on a holiday to ravage him over the Elliptical machine. 

…right? Right.

Jensen swallows hard and blinks a few times when he realizes Jared is speaking to him.

“Good workout today, man,” is what he seems to be saying, but Jensen can only concentrate on the way that Jared’s tongue shoots out to lick a bit of sweat off his top lip.

“Hrmpfff,” Jensen just about manages, before fleeing to the safety of the locker room.

Jensen is thirty-two. He has health insurance and lives in a doorman building. His college boyfriend was named _Tom_ for God’s sake, how normal can you get? There is no reason for him to be flustered over some gym rat who probably thinks Dane Cook is a comic genius. 

Jensen looks at himself in the locker room mirror, face flushed with exertion and embarrassment over how insane he’s acting. He gives himself a little internal pep talk that mostly involves a half-wink and shooting the mirror with his pointer finger shaped like a gun, but it does manage to calm him down enough to strip down and climb into the shower.

It’s the first time that he’s had the locker room to himself, and after a few minutes he can't resist soaping up his armpits while warbling an Adam Lambert ditty that he’ll deny knowing the words to in the morning. It’s probably that, along with the shaking of his hips that inevitably goes along with it, that distracts him from the other person that enters the locker room.

A very Jared-sized person. Standing in front of him. Naked.

“That’s a penis!” Jensen will deny later that he yelps this. 

“Last time I checked,” Jared replies, good-naturedly, seemingly not at all perturbed that he’s standing there naked while a red-faced and Irish Spring-ed Jensen sings pop songs badly.

Jensen’s eyes play a game of ping-pong with themselves, as they go up and down and up and down between Jared’s amused face and his _gigantic cock._

“So what are you going to do with that?” Jensen finally manages to squeak out, leaning up against the tile in what he hopes is a pseudo-seductive fashion. The tile is wet with soap scum, however, and slides right off of it and into Jared’s hard, naked, beautiful body.

Jared catches him, just like he always does when Jensen trips or bumbles or pretends to faint from exhaustion to distract from Sandy the juice bar girl. His arms slide effortlessly around Jensen’s middle, pulling him up into him so Jensen’s bare wet dick is sliding precariously close to Jared’s.

“Sorry about that,” Jensen mumbles, embarrassed, head tilted down so he doesn’t have to see the surely amused expression on Jared’s face.

Jared’s grip doesn’t falter however, and when Jensen feels the stirrings of Jared’s _gigantic cock_ edging closer to his own not-as-gigantic-but-still-respectable-thank-you one, Jensen looks up in surprise.

There’s definitely no amusement on Jared’s face. Instead, his eyes are half-lidded and dark, and his bottom lip is tucked between his adorably crooked teeth as he stares down at Jensen.

“So,” Jensen says finally, his voice breathier than during the actual workout. “You really _did_ lure me to an empty gym on a holiday to ravage me over the Elliptical machine.”

“It sounds way creepier when you say it like that,” Jared whispers, and Jensen doesn’t have time to respond because Jared’s mouth is suddenly on his and there are way more important things to be done besides “talking” and “breathing”.

Before he can even process the sanitary issues involved, all eight feet of personal trainer is pressing Jensen’s back into the shower wall that he just slipped off of, sculpted muscle being much better leverage to keep him upright.

“You can totally tell me to stop if I read this wrong,” Jared says, voice rough as he pulls away momentarily from where he’s sucking Jensen’s tongue. 

Jensen can’t help laughing in response, considering their dicks are currently fencing between their bodies like it’s the gold medal match at the Summer Olympics.

“Yeah, okay,” Jared continues, grin suddenly feral as he goes back to devouring Jensen’s soft palate.

Jared slides one big hand up Jensen’s side, across the tight buds of his nipples and finally around the curve of his neck, drawing Jensen even deeper. His fingers clench possessively, and Jensen can’t help the whine that escapes his throat. Jared just chuckles into his mouth, their teeth clacking with the vibration of it, and ups the ante by sliding his other hand down in between them until it curls around the steel rod that Jensen’s cock has helpfully transformed itself into.

Jared’s grip is alternately strong and gentle, the slight callouses on his palm causing just the right friction as it slides from the base of Jensen’s dick towards a leisurely little twist at the crown. The water, mixed with precome bubbling from the slit, slick the way just enough that the motions take on smooth, nearly-hypnotic rhythm.

“God, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Jared hisses, hand not playing Jensen’s dick like a fiddle reaching up to grip the hair at the nape of Jensen’s neck. He tugs, pulling Jensen’s head back enough that Jared can start licking bruising kisses alongside Jensen’s jawline.

“I only come here because of you,” Jensen blurts out, the steam-induced sex trance he’s currently in relaxing his brain-to-mouth filter. “I fucking hate exercise.”

Jared just laughs, face bright and beautiful as his hand speeds up. Jensen feels the muscles of his stomach tightening and knows that he’s close, but he doesn’t want it to end, doesn’t want to chance never getting to have this view and this sensation again.

“Come on, Jensen, let go. Come all over me, I want to feel it dripping,” Jared murmurs, leaning closer so that their mouths are only centimeters apart and they’re sharing the same air.

That’s about all Jensen’s fragile equilibrium can take, and he’s jizzing harder than he has since he was a teenager looking at the Abercrombie and Fitch catalog.

Jensen slumps back against the wall, Jared’s hand on the back of his neck pretty much the only thing keeping him upright. He knows he should return the favor, but before he can get past the emotional exhaustion of complete and utter contentment, Jared’s stripping his own _gigantic cock_ , knuckles popping with the fast, rough movement, and coming all over both their pelvises.

There’s a pause then, as both of them recover their senses while panting hard and letting the water sluice away some of the stickiness. The pause is silent, but not necessarily uncomfortable, and Jensen lets himself think for a moment that this might not be a one time thing after all.

Jensen, however, can’t resist sticking his foot in his mouth just one more time.

“I don’t have to pay you for today’s session, right? Because that would be kind of hooker-y.”

Luckily, Jared is used to Jensen’s mouth, and decides to find a few better uses for it.


End file.
